Pure Blood
by Sleepwalking Dreamer
Summary: While investigating rumors of Rosen Creuz Orden activity in Romania, Abel and Ion stumble across a facility dating back seventy years before the conception of the Red Mars Project. What they find could destroy the Orden...or the world.
1. First Drop

**Pure Blood**

_By: Sleepwalking Dreamer_

_A Trinity Blood Fan Fiction Piece_

DISCLAIMER:

_Trinity Blood_ © Yoshida Sunao, Tomohiro Hirata, and GONZO

Katherine Sandoval, Morgan O' Clare, G Leggieri and other members of the Lazarus Project © Sleepwalking Dreamer

Anything and everything else © respective owners

NOTES:

As far as I know, as of the time that I have started writing this story (2006 C.E, or A.D., whichever you prefer), cryonics is sufficiently advanced to allow preservation of the human body, but a process to revive people from that state has yet to be achieved. It is always speculated that advancements in nanotechnology will allow future generations to revive cryopreserved people with minimal damage to their physiology, and that is the premise I am operating on in this story – after all, Martian technology seems to be sufficiently advanced to accomplish this revival. The symptoms of the revival as related here, however, are entirely speculation on my part.

As for the effects of the Pure Blood on the Methuselah who drink it, I operate on the idea that the Bacillus could have changed the immune system of the Methuselah who have it in them, but the reason why Terran blood is not deadly to them is due to the weakening of Terran immune systems after residual radioactive fallout from Armageddon. The "purity" referred to in "Pure Blood" is that of the immune defenses of the blood itself. The white blood cells of those who have Pure Blood react aggressively to the Bacillus in Methuselan bloodstreams, destroying them, consequently destroying the blood – and hence, effectively killing the Methuselah in question.

Finally, regarding the preservation of deadly viruses – including the ones that are responsible for SARS and AIDS – this is a practice that is still undertaken today for the sake of research. In fact, there are samples in existence that come from deadly pandemics of long ago, such as the bubonic plague that swept Europe in the Middle Ages, and the so-called Spanish flu, which swept the world from 1918 to 1920 and caused a severe loss of life. That people would continue to preserve these, believing that future generations would be able to find a cure for them – particularly for the more recent viruses that have come out – is not too far-fetched.

TIMELINE:

This is set nearly immediately after the anime, and runs on the canon as set out by the anime. Please don't scold me or tell me off for changing the story post-anime; I don't have access to the manga or to the novels, so a majority of what I am writing here will be as based on the anime.

GENRE: Action/Adventure; Sci-Fi; Romance

RATING: T

TEASER:

While investigating rumors of Rosen Creuz Orden activity in Romania, Abel and Ion stumble across a facility dating back seventy years before the conception of the Red Mars Project. Upon entering, they discover that the facility was dedicated to a secret international government project called the Lazarus Project, whose aim was to cryonically preserve people in the hopes that in the future, advances in medical technology would allow them to be revived. What they find is an entire underground city of people, each preserved in their own cryopreservation machine. However, they have only managed to save the important files from one of the main computers when they are attacked by Orden members. In the confusion, the entire facility is destroyed, with only six machines left intact.

Acting upon personal agreement, the Methuselah and the Crusnik send three of the machines to Byzantium, while they accompany the other three to the Vatican. There, they make a startling discovery: first, that they can revive the people in the machines. And second, that these people may provide a solution to their problems regarding the Orden…as well as provide even more problems themselves…

_For Noey: _

_Who breathed life into Morgan, _

_Who adored G's real name even if he doesn't, _

_And most of all, _

_Who loved this story before anyone else ever did. _

_Thank you very much, and I hope you'll love reading this as much as I loved writing it._

**First Drop: Winter Cold, Secrets Deep**

Cold: unforgiving, merciless cold. That was all that he could feel – or if he could even feel at all, considering the fact that he was probably frostbitten in his extremities by now. He pulled his scarf tighter around him to prevent snowflakes from finding their way into his nostrils, and squinted as he attempted to peer through the blizzard, and managed to make balls of soft yellow radiance in the distance. He looked over his shoulder at the hunched figure that trudged along just behind him. "The inn's not that far!" he yelled, so that he might be heard over the roaring of the wind. "I can see the lights of the inn!"

"I hear you!" Ion Fortuna yelled back, which assured him that the young Methuselah nobleman had not lost his way. Then again, the boy was _Methuselah_; they were far hardier than ordinary humans in harsh conditions.

Of course, he himself was Methuselah, after a fashion, but only when he commanded the nanomachines in his body to kick in – and even then, he was no ordinary Methuselah.

Slowly, the little balls of light that had been visible through the blizzard became clearer and more distinct, and managed to illuminate a rather pretty building: the Fireside Inn, their residence for the past few nights, and for the succeeding nights. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable, with a fireplace that lived up to the inn's name. In the high reaches of the Carpathian Mountains of Romania where the cold was one's most constant companion even in summer, such a simple thing as a blazing fire was considered wonderful indeed.

After several minutes that felt more like several hours, Abel finally heard the tip of his boot collide with the front porch of the inn, and he sighed loudly in relief. "Thank the Lord," he murmured as he pushed the door open, holding it just wide enough to let Ion in and keep most of the snow out.

"Welcome back, Father, Young Master! It is a good thing you managed to get back before the worst of the blizzard hit."

Abel grinned at the cheery, melodic voice, and looked up to see the young barmaid, Crina Salahori, coming towards them, a tray balanced on her hand. "I thought that _that_ was already the worst of it."

Crina laughed, and shook her head. "The mountains are only building up their lungs right now, Father. Soon they will exhale such a blast as you can only dream about in the Papal States." She tipped her head slightly to one side. "Shall I lead you to your table, then?"

"Please," Abel said, and gratefully followed Crina as she wove her way between the tables, Ion not that far behind him. As soon as they were seated and Crina had gone off to get them some of her mother's hot stew and some good wine, he turned to Ion, and murmured: "We have found nothing here yet."

Ion nodded his head. "I know, and it's starting to get annoying." His scowl deepened. "Those Orden bastards are as clever as rats when it comes to hiding themselves."

"It will only be a matter of time," Abel said, both to comfort his companion as much as to reassure himself. "We're getting close, I think. We should be able to find them soon."

And that, Abel thought, was the main reason why they had come here, why he and Ion had set out into the world without even going to Esther's coronation as Queen of Albion. With Cain somewhere out there and most of his highest-ranking commanders in the Rosen Creuz Orden scattered, now was the best time to begin crushing this secret organization – and from there, so Abel knew, he would eventually find Cain, and kill him at last.

Even as his blood thrilled at the prospect of vengeance, sadness caused his heart to twist painfully at the same time. Once, long, long ago, he and Cain had been brothers-in-arms, and brothers in blood, after a fashion. But all of that was changed now, and there was nothing he could do. If he wanted to protect those he valued, if he wanted to ensure that this world remained safe…if he wanted to atone for the manifold sins that had accumulated on his soul over the course of the last nine hundred or so years, then he would have to bring Cain down, and with him, the Rosen Creuz Orden.

"Father Abel?"

Abel snapped back to reality, and he focused on Ion, who was looking at him curiously. "Huh? What's wrong?"

"…Nothing," Ion replied as he turned his gaze to look at the crackling fire. "It's just that you looked as if you were thinking very deeply about something."

"I suppose I was." A particularly strong and particularly wild gust of wind rattled the windowpanes and made the ceiling beams groan, causing Abel to stiffen and look upwards worriedly. Was the storm really that strong that it could quite possibly send this evidently sturdy house tumbling down around them?

Crina's merry laughter cut into his thoughts as she came to their table, her tray laden with more stew and hot, mulled wine that she poured with a generous hand. "Don't worry about the house, Father. The inn has been on these slopes for several generations, and has seen our family and guests safely through more powerful storms than this. You will be all right."

"Several generations…?" Abel sighed when Crina was finally out of earshot. "That's precisely what I was worried about."

Ion chuckled, and shook his head as he sipped the wine. "I find it amazing that Terrans can live here, in the upper reaches of these mountains. Methuselah, perhaps, I can imagine, but Terrans? The conditions are so harsh here."

"It's not all that bad a place to live, if you are looking for security and safety," Abel replied. "After all, the odds are very low that someone will find this place important enough to invade and occupy. No: people come here for safety, and that is what they've had ever since they built the first house here."

Ion nodded his head. "Well, that makes sense." He glanced out the window. "Do you think we will be able to find something tomorrow?"

Abel smiled as he sipped his wine, which traced a warm trail from his mouth to his stomach, and left an aftertaste of cinnamon. "We can always hope. Maybe God will be kind enough, and give us good fortune tomorrow."

"Do you _really_ believe in your God, Father?"

"Certainly. If I did not believe in something, I might as well lose all hope." Abel tilted his head at Ion. "What do you believe in, Ion?"

"Vengeance," Ion replied promptly.

Abel sighed. He had been afraid of that. "And what happens when this is all over? It will end, you know – perhaps well within your lifetime, you being Methuselah and all. When we have found the Orden and crushed it, what will you do? When you have had your vengeance, what will you believe in?"

For a brief moment, Abel wondered what right he had to say such a thing. After all, was he not doing this because he, too, wanted revenge? For as long as the Orden existed, for as long as Cain lived and breathed, he would have a purpose for living, but what would happen when that was all over? Would he go back to Rome to continue working with Catherina? Would he go to Albion, and serve Esther? Or would he go to Byzantium instead, and work with Seth again, to be with all that remained of his family?

He shook his head rapidly then, to clear his thoughts. He could decide on what to do later. For now, he had to focus. There were bigger fish to fry.

---+---

"Our readings indicate that we shouldn't be too far from it now. We are getting quite close."

He nodded his head solemnly, his gaze focused on the violent snowstorm that howled outside. "Good. Do we have any idea as to how large it is?"

"Unfortunately, no; there seem to be many chambers, but there are spaces that appear to be air ducts that lead down below, deep into the bedrock. No equipment in existence can read that deep."

"I see." He inclined his head just so. "Continue with the search, and try to map the area as thoroughly as possible. We shall begin tomorrow night."

As the soft footfalls of his subordinates faded away behind him, he inhaled deeply on his cigarette, the tip glowing briefly before he lowered it, and exhaled the smoke from his mouth and nostrils. They were close now, they had to be. Those files he had "acquired" from the Albion computer archives, as well as those from various other sources, had given him enough clues to be definitive about the location of what he had long thought to be nothing more but rumor and speculation – but which he now believed to be very, very real.

Isaak Fernando von Kämpfer allowed a small smile to curl on his lips. He knew exactly what it was that he sought, and if he could acquire it, he knew that the world would not be too far from the Orden's grasp.

"Soon," he murmured to the wind. "Soon."


	2. Second Drop

**Second Drop: The Cave of Lazarus**

The contrast between this night and the last was startling. The sky was amazingly clear, as if the blizzard last night had swept them all away, and the moon was brilliant and full, reflecting off the clean, white snow that blanketed everything within sight.

It was a dazzling thing to behold, and Ion Fortuna believed there was nothing in his memory that he could compare it to. It was almost as if the blizzard had swept the world clean, and left a vision of purity in its wake. He could go on standing where he was, contemplating it forever.

"Ion! I hate to interrupt your thoughts, but we have to get going!"

He sighed then, trying to hide his irritation as he wrapped the scarf more firmly around his neck. "I'm right behind you, Father."

Father Abel Nightroad smiled cheerfully. "I was just making sure. Wouldn't want you to get lost – after all, the Empress and your grandmother would have my head jellied and served on a silver platter if that happened…unless Asta got to me before them, which is just as bad, if not worse…"

At that, Abel's face took on a most comical expression that Ion couldn't help but smile wryly as he shook his head. He picked up his pace so that he was walking alongside Abel, and said: "Are you certain that _I_ am the one who is going to get lost? I always assumed getting lost was _your_ specialty, Father."

Abel gaped at him. "How cruel of you to say that!"

"After all, if you can get lost in _Rome_, of all places, what are the odds that you haven't gotten us lost already?" Ion surveyed the area around them idly. "Didn't we pass that snowdrift over there several minutes ago?"

Abel gave Ion a kicked-puppy look. "Why are you being so mean to me? You're just as bad as Tres, or Leon, for that matter."

Ion just shook his head, and pushed onwards. "Let's go, Father."

They slogged through the snow, Ion focusing on the little GPS machine that he carried with him – a very useful piece of Lost Technology that he had not, until very recently, ever encountered. The machines that he and Abel carried with them were actually just on loan: a little favor to them by Virgil Walsh of Albion.

His thoughts turned to Esther almost immediately at the thought of Albion. He wondered how she was doing, if she was holding up just fine. Were the pressures of the monarchy weighing her down? Did she ever feel lonely?

"Um, Ion, if you don't stop walking _right now,_ you're going to hit that tree."

Ion halted dead in his tracks, and realized that, indeed, if he took one more step, he would have rammed face-first into the trunk of a pine tree directly in his path. Somewhat mortified by his mistake, he cleared his throat and stepped aside. "I knew that."

Abel chuckled behind him, but didn't say another word.

They continued in silence, focused mostly on the snow before them, occasionally looking down at their GPS machines to check if they were still on the right track. Their goal was actually something that had taken them several months of tedious research and information-gathering to locate: a cave hidden in the mountains of this area, a place which had, supposedly, aroused the interest of some of the higher-ups of the Rosen Creuz Orden. When they arrived at the village several nights ago, they also learned that there had been some activity going on within the vicinity of a place the locals called the Lazarus Cave.

No one knew the origins of the name. Even the village elder said that she had heard of the name from her grandmother, and that even she had not known why it was called that. When she was questioned about whether or not they knew what was inside, the old woman shook her head.

"_No one has ever ventured very far inside," _said the old woman's voice in Ion's head. _"The minute they do, they claim that they hear a soft, strange humming, almost like that of millions of bees. And it gets higher and higher, as if drawing closer; and then there is a bright flash of light… But no one has stayed longer than that, and no one has dared venture deeper. We keep away from it, and we tell our children not to go there."_

It was a most puzzling thing, to say the least. If that was what the Orden was after, it could only have been something that would help them in their quest to dominate the world. Ion could not imagine what it was – perhaps a hidden source of Lost Technology, but precisely what he could not be so sure. After all, Albion was currently the Papal States' primary source for Lost Technology, while the Empire had its own sources. Neither nation was willing to share whatever technology they had, except in extremely special cases, especially now that both sides were aware of the danger posed by that group Cardinal Catherina Sforza had dubbed _Contra Mundi,_ "The Enemies of the World," but who saw fit to call themselves _Rosen Creuz Orden_.

All at once, the brilliant moonlight dimmed all around him, and when he looked up, Ion realized that he was standing in the shadow cast by a massive hulk of solid rock. The cliff of primeval rock towered above him, the moonlight only a faint halo glinting off the snow at the very top and along the bottom where the wind had piled the snow up in drifts, and he now understood why Abel said people came here for safety – as well as to hide their secrets.

"Well, this is where the elder said the cave was supposed to be," Abel said as he put away his GPS machine, even as his gaze traveled skyward up the cliff face. He finally turned his gaze to the piled-up snow in front of them, and sighed. "I guess we're going to have to clear away this snow."

Ion blinked. "And with what? We don't have any shovels, in case you didn't notice."

"Then we use what we _do_ have: our hands." Abel turned to him, and perhaps noticing the expression on Ion's face, he grinned broadly. "Come on Ion, don't be such a spoilsport! Have you never played in the snow before? This can actually be rather fun, if you think about it that way." And with that, he walked right up to the cliff face, and started clearing away the snow that had piled up in front of it.

Ion opened his mouth to protest, but in the end, he merely heaved a sigh, and gave in, following Abel's lead. From time to time, he wondered just why it was that Abel Nightroad was such an important member of AX, or why people like his grandmother Mirka Fortuna, or the Duchess of Odessa Astaroshe Aslan, or the Empress herself all trusted him despite the fact that he tended to act like a bumbling idiot.

When he thought about it, though, he realized that it was precisely that bumbling, well-intentioned nature of his that endeared him so much to everyone around him – even to himself. And besides, Ion was beginning to understand that Abel's bumbling nature was really just a cover for an intelligence that was far sharper than many might have thought it to be, as well as a vast well of experience that stretched back to far more years than Ion could ever imagine.

His hands touched what felt like cold metal then, and when Ion looked, he blinked in surprise at what he saw. "Father, I think I just found something…"

"Hmm?" Abel left off from his digging, and came over. "What did you-" As soon as his gaze fell on what it was that Ion had found, Abel fell silent, and his eyes narrowed, the bumbling priest disappearing in a flash.

"Father?" Ion ventured after a moment of silence. "What is it?"

"The last thing I expected to see," Abel replied, his voice deepening in his seriousness. "Let's get rid of the rest of this snow. We'll need to find the keypad that will let us open the door itself."

Keypad? "Father, you're not making a lot of sense," Ion said even as he set his hands to brushing away the snow from what was turning out to be an immense, metal door.

Abel was silent for a long while, as if stubbornly refusing to answer, but at length, when they uncovered an unusual insignia inscribed on the door – the letters L and P fused together at their stems, so that the P was facing the usual way and the L was facing backwards – he finally responded to Ion's question. "A thousand years ago, people were obsessed with finding ways to preserve all that they had: plants, animals, knowledge…even themselves. One of the answers to the latter was to cryonically preserve people – to put them in a state of suspended animation so that they could be revived ten, twenty, a thousand years into the future. I know it sounds a little strange, but believe me, they tried."

Ion nodded his head. "So what does that have to do with the insignia on this door?"

"More than you can imagine."

"… So what does that symbol mean?"

Abel paused, and gazed at the symbol long and hard before answering: "It means _Lazarus Project._"

Ion opened his mouth again to ask, but Abel shook his head. "I don't know much about it myself," he cut in before Ion could so much as draw breath to speak. "What I heard of it was mostly rumor and speculation. I didn't even think it actually existed." He turned to look at the door. "But if this _is_ the home base of the Lazarus Project, then…"

"Then what?" Ion asked, his impatience getting the better of him. He did not appreciate Abel keeping things from him like this. If anything, he thought he deserved to know what exactly was going on.

But Abel was resolutely silent on the matter, and only continued to clear away more snow. At length, he uncovered a small panel to the right side of the door, and after a few minutes of contemplation, he pressed one of the buttons. A green diode flared to life on the panel, and with a rumble, the door started to slide open.

Ion watched as the dark, gaping void beyond the door yawned at him, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold traveled up and down his spine. It was as if the cave was the maw of some monster that slept with its mouth open, in the hopes that unwary prey would wander in, and then it would close its jaws and swallow the poor creature whole.

Abel grasped his shoulder then, and Ion noticed that his pistol was out. Nodding in comprehension, Ion drew his own dagger, and with that in hand, followed Abel into the darkness.

--+--

The soft humming brought Abel out of his thoughts, causing him to look up. The sound echoed against the walls, and seemed to grow almost to a steady rumbling sound – a sound that Abel was quite familiar with.

"Was this the sound that the elder was talking about?" Ion asked. "It doesn't sound like bees."

"It's a generator – several generators," Abel replied, the hum building up to a crescendo, before there was a brilliant flash of light, as of several flashbulbs going off. When at last the flare died down and Abel looked around, and realized that he and Ion were standing in the middle of a large room in the cool, but brilliant glare of several fluorescent lamps that, amazingly, still worked even after all these years.

The lights revealed a large, circular chamber, paneled in what Abel recognized was a special material that would ensure that the room would be completely sealed, with no air inside at all. It would explain, then, why everything looked just as they might have the moment the facility was closed up forever; there wasn't so much as a speck of dust on the floor beneath his feet.

His thoughts turned back to Seth, his little sister, who was all the way in Byzantium, and wished that she was right there with him. She wouldn't have been troubled by this discovery, not in the least; she would have rejoiced and laughed, and set about immediately to finding out just what exactly this place was about.

Or perhaps she wouldn't be so excited. After all, if what he remembered was true, then-

"Father Abel?"

Abel snapped out of his grim thoughts, and smiled wanly at Ion. "I'm sorry; I was just thinking about something."

The young Methuselah nobleman frowned at him. "I don't like the fact that you are keeping secrets from me, Father."

"I don't mean to, Ion. But I don't like talking about things that I'm not so very knowledgeable about, and _this_ is one of them."

Ion sighed, and shifted a little in his impatience, but that subsided relatively quickly.

Abel smiled at him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Ion. I think we're going to get our answers at the same time, anyway." He looked forward, and noticed that there was a console with a large monitor on it in the middle of the room – where it was sure to be noticed. "How about we try out that console over there?"

Abel had been a little afraid that the Lost Technology used on the computer would be far older than the technology he was used to, hence putting him out of his league, but fortunately, the system seemed to be based on the ones that he was familiar with, and hence he was able to turn it on. Before he could press any more buttons, however, the screen flared to life, and in less time than it took for him and Ion to back away from it, a face appeared. It was a middle-aged woman, a scientist of some sort judging from the lab coat she was wearing, and with a world-weary look to her face that added years to her real age. It took him milliseconds to realize that they were watching a video, set to play as soon as someone turned on the console.

Ion was about to ask what was going on, but the woman started speaking: _"I do not know when or who will find this, but, whoever you are, if you can understand me, please listen carefully, for I speak on the behalf of thousands of people whose very lives now lie in your care."_

Abel glanced at the top-right corner of the video, and frowned when he saw the year: 2081, seven years before he and Cain were born. He quickly focused on the video again, knowing that it would contain valuable information.

"_You have found the facility of what is known as the Lazarus Project. It is an underground, private effort to preserve everything and anything about the world, from the year 2010 up to the present day. We have been eminently successful in our efforts, thanks to the advancement of cryonics and other methods that have allowed us to put living things in a state of suspended animation. Here, in this facility, we have preserved things both living and non-living, humans, animals, plants, bacteria and viruses. The Archives contain various kinds and classes of data, while the Sleeping World is home to the many people who have become a part of this project, as well as all other living things we have seen fit to preserve."_

Abel felt his blood run cold at the idea that they had, indeed, preserved people.

The video continued: _"If we have done wrong in the eyes of others, then know that we have done this for the sake of preserving what we know against the destruction and ravages that are sure to come in the future. We know already that our age will be lost, though we do not know how. What we have done has been in the hopes that future generations will find this place, and be able to aid us even as we aid them wherever possible. Awaken all who sleep here, and help them, just as they will help you."_ She paused, and then she smiled slightly. _"Recorded on the eighteenth of June, 2081, by myself, Eva Bracken, Chief Director of the Lazarus Project."_

The screen went blank, and then Abel heard a soft whirr, followed by a hiss. When he looked to the source of the sound, he saw a shiny disk on a tray, and next to it, a drawer containing what looked like small medallions to be worn around the neck. Abel had not seen such items in a long time, but he knew what they were: special keys that were read by scanners placed around doors and other such entry points. They acted like card-keys, but they were special in that one did not need to swipe them or place them against anything in order for them to work; one merely stood immediately in front of a door, the scanner would read the data embedded into the medallion, and the door would open. There were a lot of them in the drawer, so Abel took two, put one around his neck, took the disk, and gave the other medallion to Ion, who gazed at it for a while before he put it on.

"It's a key," Abel explained when Ion gave him an inquiring look. "It will help us get around." He scanned the chamber, looking for nearby doors – and there was only one other, apart from the entrance they had used, at the farthest end of the chamber. He started walking towards it, Ion right next to him.

The both of them were silent for a while, but as they neared the door, Ion asked: "I just realized something: how could the villagers have entered this place when the door was closed? I doubt that any of them know how to operate Lost Technology."

"The main entrance would have been left open in good weather," Abel replied. "A second set of doors, most likely made of a clear material, would have kept the main chamber sealed at any other time. But during bad weather, the main doors would close, sealing this facility more effectively to protect it from the harsher elements."

"But that would imply that this entire facility is run automatically – by a large computer system."

"I'm sure of it."

"Wouldn't that require a lot of power to work? And if it is as you say, then the system has been running for the past one thousand years. I doubt even those who used Lost Technology like this could have created a battery that could run for that long."

"And they _did_ have such batteries, but the technology to make them has yet to be retrieved."

They were standing in front of the door now, and stood directly in front of it. A few moments later, there was a soft whir, click, and hiss, as of pressure being released, and the door slid aside.

Abel felt his heart beating harder, faster, his anticipation – and his fear – rising with every single _thud, thud_ in his chest. Somewhere in the depths of the corridor beyond he heard the now-familiar keening noise of engines and electrical devices powering up, and soon the path before them was illuminated with a cold blue glow. He could already see through the doorway that the corridor split into two: one going to the left, the other to the right. There were signs on the wall, as well: the one above the corridor to the right read "Archives," while the one on the left read "Sleeping World."

"Father?" Ion's voice was almost too loud in the silence, despite the fact that it was quite soft, just above a whisper. "Where should we go?"

Abel straightened, and pulled out his gun. One could never be too sure. "I will go to the left; you go and take the right. I will keep in touch with you via our communications link." Here he tapped the tiny microphone in his ear. "If you see anything unusual, tell me right away."

Ion nodded, and drew his own dagger. They walked down the corridor together, and then, with a final nod at each other, separated, in the hopes of finding answers to all their myriad questions.


	3. Third Drop

**Third Drop: Eternal Rest**

_The tapping of keys was a constant, familiar rattle all around him, soothing and comforting the way those bamboo noisemakers in Japanese gardens were. The faster the clatter, the better he felt, because that meant more work was actually getting done._

_He was working as rapidly as possible, lines of code scrolling down his monitor, almost too fast for the average person to read – or even if they could, it would seem practically incomprehensible to them. But he was used to this; in fact, if the code had scrolled any slower, he'd get the feeling that something had gone completely, utterly wrong._

_But at the moment, all was well, and he could taste the adrenaline on the back of his tongue. He was close – very, _very _close._

_Suddenly, there was a beep from his speakers, which was followed by several more beeps. Grinning widely, he leaned back as his screen went blank, before turning blue, and then projecting a logo that looked like an L and a P back-to-back._

_He rubbed his hands together, like a greedy miser just come into a fortune. He was in business._

--+--

"_Achoo!"_

The comm. link in his ear crackled to life. "Father? Are you all right?"

Abel sniffed, realizing that the dry air was playing havoc with his sinuses. "Yes Ion, I'm perfectly fine. Just sneezed, that's all." He continued walking down the corridor, his hands relaxed at his sides. He didn't feel the need to keep his weapon drawn; after all, it wasn't as if there was anyone else here – at the moment.

This corridor seems to go on forever, he thought. He had been walking for the last ten minutes or so, and there didn't seem to be any end in sight just yet. He began to wonder if he had managed to miss a door somewhere along the way, a door that he should have seen but didn't notice.

Still, that didn't seem very logical. The way he understood it, this place had been _meant_ to be found eventually, even if it had been built with the utmost secrecy in the beginning. He just had to be patient then.

Just when he was beginning to think that he might have to walk the entire length of the mountain range just to get where he needed to go, he finally spotted a door. Sighing in relief, he walked up to it, making sure that the medallion was not obscured by anything. After a brief pause, there was a soft beep, and then the hiss of releasing pressure, and once more, the door moved out of his way, opening up into the large, yawning space beyond.

--+--

"…_what, then, is the connection between the pyramids of the Egyptians and the pyramids of the ancient Mesoamerican cultures, such as those of the Mayans and the Aztecs? Does the answer lie in the Atlantis Theory, which states that the reason why these cultures present certain similarities is because they shared roots with a culture that was dispersed due to some natural disaster? Or is it simply the result of both cultures coming up with a similar solution to an existing engineering problem?"_

_There was a snicker from the back row. "Maybe it was the Goa'uld (1), ma'am."_

_The class erupted into chuckles and giggles, and she had to smile as well. "I think you've been watching one too many episodes of _Stargate, _Mr. Connor." _

_At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of classes, and she raised her voice above the din of scraping chairs and the murmurs between students. "Remember, I want a five to seven page paper on your comparisons between Egyptian pyramids and their Mayan and Aztec counterparts. Plus five points on next week's quiz to the one who gives me the best paper."_

_Slowly, the classroom emptied out, and she sighed as she put her papers back into her bag. As she did so, she took out her cell phone, and frowned when she saw that Dr. Adams, her mentor, had called her thrice already, but she hadn't noticed because she had put her phone on silent. She walked out of the classroom and into the hall, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder. She hit one of her speed dial numbers, and pressed the device to her ear until the line picked up. "Dr. Adams? Is something wrong?"_

"_Ah, finally caught you, my dear. Listen, could you come up to the History Department right now? There is something I need to talk to you about."_

_She blinked, surprised by the anxious tone in Dr. Adams' voice. Usually he was fairly easygoing and cheerful, even when he said his students were giving him hell; right now, the tension behind his words told her that something was very wrong. "Sure, of course. Give me a minute; I'll be right there."_

--+--

Ion did not know what to expect when the door finally opened. When the sign he had followed said that he was heading towards the Archives, he wondered what it would be. Would it be an immense library, like the ones he had seen in Albion and Byzantium, only grander, bigger? Or would it be something else entirely? Somehow, the idea excited him – as well as scared him.

He wondered then why it was that Abel had chosen to go to the Sleeping World instead of the Archives. Ion had assumed that Abel would want to take a look at whatever data existed in the Archives, particularly sine he seemed very familiar with Lost Technology. But when he really thought about it, though, Ion knew in himself that he didn't have enough knowledge to handle what was probably in the Sleeping World.

As soon as he stepped through the door, the entire chamber lit itself up, and Ion stared at what he saw. It was a large room, lined floor to ceiling with shelves. On the shelves were books, but when Ion opened them, the pages turned out to be made out of some sort of substance that was cut wafer thin, and shot through with tiny metallic threads on the inside.

He lifted a hand to his ear, pressing a button on his comm. link to connect him with Abel. "Father, these Archives are a little…strange."

There was a brief crackle of static, and Abel replied: "What do you mean, strange?"

"There are books here, but their pages are odd. They remind me of those chips being made in the Ghetto of Albion, only these are much thinner, and much bigger."

Abel was silent for a long while, but before Ion could repeat the statement, Abel replied: "Those are indeed called books, but they aren't books of the ordinary sort. Each page contains hundreds of terabytes of data. They were used for storing massive amounts of information related to a single topic. What does the cover say?"

Ion checked the cover, and read out the words that were stamped on it. "Lazarus Project, Volume One." He looked at the shelves, and saw that there were five more of them on the shelf. "There are a total of six volumes under the same title."

"Good. Now, Ion, I have a very big favor to ask of you. See if you can take as many of those books as you can. If you look carefully, you'll see a catch on the spine of the books. Press that, and you'll be able to fold the book to around half its size. Once you manage that, look for any bags you might see lying around. Take as many bags as you can manage, and as many books as you can, but focus particularly on those related to science and technology. And don't forget to take the Lazarus Project's records, too. We might need those."

Ion did as he was told. He found the aforementioned catch on the spine of the book, and the minute he pressed that the book automatically folded itself down do half its original size, so that it could have fitted comfortably in Abel's palm. He pulled down the six other volumes for the Lazarus Project's records, shrank then down to size, and started hunting down the bags that Abel said would be nearby.

--+--

"_Is this the last of them?"_

"_Yes, it is," she replied as she straightened, wincing slightly when she felt the bones in the lumbar region of her spine snap and pop. She stretched to ease the tension in her muscles, and looked at the person she was speaking to. "And how are you, Da?"_

_Her father chuckled softly as he glanced up from his work, and smiled at her. "I'm just fine, my dear." He leaned back, and rolled his shoulders. "I am nearly finished up with the report that I will give to the Chief Director tomorrow."_

_She tilted her head in curiosity. "Really? Do you mind if I read it?"_

"_Not at all; here." He handed her a sheaf of papers, and she scanned the pages with a quick and practiced eye. To the ordinary layman it might have looked like a lot of medical jargon, but she understood it clearly. It was not for any reason, after all, that she had chosen to study under her father, one of the world's most renowned virologists. _

_She smiled in sympathy as she turned to look at him when she handed him back the papers. "So there really is nothing that can be done?"_

"_I am afraid not, my dear," he replied. "It simply mutates too quickly for us to catch up with it. Future generations might have the solution, but for us…well, there's nothing we can do except contain it as best as we can."_

_She nodded her head solemnly. "We've been mighty lucky so far, that there's been no major outbreaks, no pandemics."_

"_Aye, but how long do you think that will last?" He shook his head. "No, my dear; I have reached the limit of my abilities. There is nothing left for me to do."_

_She walked over to him, and embraced him. At this moment, she felt as if he was the only family she had left. She had brothers, sure, but they were elsewhere. Even if they were far apart, though, they still kept in contact with one another, as best as they might. _

_But now, she knew that things were going to change. _

"_That time already, is it?" She hugged her father where he sat in his chair, trying to offer him some comfort. "It won't be so long to us, Da. We will go to sleep, and we will wake up as if nothing had happened, and the world will be changed. You'll be able to carry on with your research without a hitch."_

_Her father chuckled, and she thought she heard a hint of sadness in his voice. "Lass, 'tis not for me to carry on the torch, but for you. Do you understand?"_

"_Sure I do, but you and Shamus and Aidan will be with me, won't you?"_

"…_I will. We will. Certainly."_

_She hugged him tighter, reassured, but she did not see the sad smile on his face, nor the look of bittersweet hope in his eyes._

--+--

Abel stared all around him. When he had first heard about the Lazarus Project from a scientist on Mars long, long ago, he had thought that it was nothing more than a fantastical story, paralleling that of fairytales about people who had been sent into a deep sleep only to wake up a hundred years into the future.

Nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ could have ever prepared him for what he was seeing right then.

The great, cavernous space yawned before him, softly illuminated by light that emanated from strange, pod-like vessels that lined the floor and the walls. Each pod contained a human body, strips of cloth over the pertinent portions the only concession made for modesty, since what Abel assumed was the lid of every pod was made of a hard, clear material – plastic, as he realized soon enough. He walked slowly down the narrow aisles, peering briefly at the slumbering faces that he passed by, and wondered whether or not it was possible to wake them up.

He stopped in front of a pod that contained a young woman. Her features were rather Latin American, although in this day and age someone with features such as hers would be something of a rare sight, especially since nuclear warfare during Armageddon wiped out the human populations of both North and South America, and a good portion of Asia as well. He glanced at the tag that hung at a convenient eye-level from him, and found out her name: _Katherine Sandoval_.

"Father?"

Abel yelped, and literally jumped as he whirled around in surprise, fumbling to reach the gun at his waist, and only relaxed when he saw that it was Ion. "Oh…thank God it was just you, Ion. You scared me."

Ion did not respond to that with his usual high-and-mighty act, but instead, stared at the pods around him, his eyes reflecting his awe and that faint hint of horror that also crept along Abel's spine. "What…is this…?"

"These are the inhabitants of the Sleeping World," Abel replied, gesturing to the pod in front of him. "It seems that they have really managed to find a way to keep these people in suspended animation."

"So they are still alive?"

"They are." Abel nodded at the small screen on the side of every pod. "Do you see that? It shows heart rate and brain activity. Both are slower than normal, like those of a hibernating animal." He wasn't so sure about his assessment, of course, but it was a fair enough guess.

He suddenly wished that Seth was here to help him figure this out.

Ion peered closer at another pod nearby, this one housing a middle-aged man. "Why does it look as if they are floating in liquid?"

"I don't know." It was only then that Abel noticed the bags slung on Ion's body, and he smiled. "How many books did you get?"

Ion shrugged. "I lost count, to be honest. I even stopped looking at the titles, at some point in time."

Abel nodded his head, and looked around. This was an unprecedented find, all things considered: a veritable gold mine of Lost Technology. If everything was as he assumed it was, then they could use the information that had been stored up here to _really_ begin rebuilding the world, perhaps even expand into the _terra incognita_ that was Asia, and maybe, just maybe, find a way across the ocean to the Americas.

Just then, there was a loud thud, making Abel and Ion both stand stock-still. A few seconds later, the thud was followed by voices – faint voices, but in the cavernous depths of the Sleeping World, they carried over loud and clear.

"…people in those machines, sir."

"And what do you think we should do with them?"

Abel felt his blood run cold upon hearing that voice. It couldn't possibly be-

Ion hissed, eyes narrowing. "Orden!"

Abel shushed Ion with a wave of his hand, and focused once more on listening.

"Well-"

"We don't need to add more Terrans to this earth. It will be harder to get rid of them if they wake up. No, don't bother with any of them. What is the quickest way to destroy them all?"

"Explosives will work well, sir."

"Good. Then use what we brought. We already have what we want; all that remains is to bury this place for good, so that neither the Vatican nor the Empire can retrieve it."

"Yes, sir."

Ion made as if to stand up, but Abel grabbed his arm, and yanked him back down. "Don't," he muttered.

"But they're going to blow up this place!" Ion hissed in protest.

"And we're going to try to stop them," Abel said. "But we are not going to fight them."

No, Abel thought as he gritted his teeth together. The time for fighting was _not_ now. But they would do all they could to make sure that the people sleeping here, waiting to be awakened in a new world, would get to _see_ that new world.

He looked around, and glanced at Ion before nodding at one of the aisles. He had a plan, and he could only hope and pray that it turned out just as he hoped it would.

NOTES:

(1) The Goa'uld are a fictional race of aliens from the _Stargate_ franchise.


End file.
